Z z z z z z . . .

Oh, I've been a slug . . . moving slowly through the days of my post cruise life . . . leaving silvery trails along my path. The whole house is dirty . . . I have my slug nose in a book. The laundry is piling up . . . I am settled in with a crossword puzzle. There are fur balls the size of tumbleweed wafting through the kitchen . . . I snooze. Wake up slug! Do some work . . . snore!

I have a long agenda of errands to do today . . . pick up prescriptions . . . get cat vitamins . . . pick up crab legs for dinner . . . run to Publix for subs for lunch . . . clean the bathroom, finish the ironing . . .

The 9TS is sucking up all the ambition in this house. There is none left for me. He has torn down the wallpaper border along the top of his room . . . ripped down the sea grass and molding . . . sanded down the wooden doors . . . primed them . . . He is turning his room into MY dream room . . . silly man thinks I won't steal it when he is done. White bead board, pale blue paint, white trim . . I so will move into that room . . .

In the meantime, until he slows down . . . I will continue to Z z z z z z!